


A Series of "Aw, Fuck" Moments

by CiCi_Celestial



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Romance, Swearing, This is a drabble I had planned and then did in like one night, Violence, idk - Freeform, we'll see how it goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21556291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiCi_Celestial/pseuds/CiCi_Celestial
Summary: After a couple decades in hell, you start to learn a few things. Kind of like “There are different kinds of evil”, “Some things never change from Earth to Hell”, or “Never fall in love with a demon”. Well, at least, a sensible person would probably start to learn a few things. Someone who’d maybe want to keep their ass alive through some other means than their beloved Tommy gun and some decent skin flicks. Someone the opposite of Angel Dust.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 174





	A Series of "Aw, Fuck" Moments

**Author's Note:**

> I have risen from the depths of hell to give you some of their tales. They are un-beta'd and have been written in a haze of sleepiness and emotional lust so be wary.

_ Angel Dust never really cared about much. Well, that’s not entirely true. He cared a lot about sex, money, and drugs. But aside from those three things, he didn’t care about much of anything. He figured it was more or less a waste to care about anything else. Maybe his family would belong on that list. He did love Molly. But that was about it. He’s almost been alive here in hell for longer than he was alive in the “real” world, and if anything, he’s enjoyed his time down here much, much more. And hell was filled to brimstone with sex, money, and drugs, so why should he bother to care about anything else? Nothing seemed worth it.  _

_ At least, that was his thought process before he met Alastor. _

\---

“Do you have any…” Charlie held her cards close to her face, eyes dragging across the 5 cards held firmly in her hands. Her face was filled with determination to best the Radio Demon himself at his own game - “Go Fish”. 

“Threes!” Charlie slapped her cards down on the table, confidently pointing a finger at the Strawberry Pimp. There was a muted tense silence as the smiling demon looked at his own hand, before sliding one of his cards towards her. Charlie fist pumped, before taking the card and adding it to her own three of diamonds. She put it face up on the table, another book completed. The princess then looked to her girlfriend with an almost predatory gaze, ready to strike for yet another point. 

Angel tuned out after that. These ladies - well, Charlie - were nice. He did feel a bit bad about ruining her hotel’s opening party, but not enough to apologize over it. Indulging her by playing nice and participating in “family” or “group” activities always sucked, but at least Charlie was happy. Not to mention Kitty Cat and Smiles were two of the hottest demons he’d seen in a while, and just watching them do their respective things was plenty to keep him entertained. Smiles especially. The way he moved was always so interesting to watch, even if he was an absolute creep fest. 

The deer man poked at his cards, shuffling them so quick it made it hard to follow. He put his head in his hand, smile etched a thousand miles across his face, fingers tapping at the table in a delicious rhythm. Angel felt a quick pang of sadness upon realization that yes, this man was the biggest prude he’d ever met and would likely never take his invitation to fuck him. He would be such a great lay. The ones with dextrous fingers always were.

Smiles seemed to notice Angel’s interest, and pointed his eyes and fingers towards a radio that had popped into existence behind Kitty Cat’s head. The dials on the radio briefly turned into the demon’s eyes, looking over Kitty Cat’s shoulder into his hand. No one at the table had seemed to take notice, everyone else too busy watching Clean-Freak and Lesbian argue over if one of them actually had a king in their hand. Smiles’ eyes turned back to normal, and tapped out of rhythm nine times. 

Aw, hell. Strawberry was gonna help him cheat! 

A small smile grew across Angel’s face as he subtly gave the other man a thumbs up. The cat took another swig of his drink, seemingly too drunk to notice the clear going-ons. 

After the commotion had calmed down by Charlie’s own order, she gestured to Angel. “Your turn, Angel!” 

“Hmmm…” The spider pretended to scan the table, before looking at the cat man. He shot some finger guns at him, blowing a quick kiss in his direction. “Hey hot stuff.”

“Fuck off.” Kitty Cat took another swig, Lesbian spitting at him to calm it with the curses.

“Yeah, well, maybe later. You got any nines?”

The cat groaned, before flicking the card towards Angel, who grabbed it and put it with his own nine of spades. The Pimp looked pleased, before motioning his head toward Clean-Freak. Another radio from nowhere, and another succession of taps. Six. It was about time this game finally got fun.

He took a card from the cat, one from the Clean-Freak, and one from the Lesbian before Charlie stopped him, saying he was done with his turn. After a rather quick round from Kitty Cat, it was the Pimp’s turn. He looked at Angel, smile turning into a grin.

“Angel, do you have any threes?”

Of course, Smiles was also cheating with his cards. Angel shrugged his top set of shoulders before sliding the card in the deer’s direction. Ya win some, ya loose a couple hundred, he supposed. 

After a few more rounds of cheating, Charlie and Lesbian finally caught on to Smiles’ shenanigans, scolding him over his actions. The demon ignored their tirade, instead choosing to glance at Angel. Angel chuckled, putting his head in one of his hands, the other arms resting on the table or his knees. 

Smiles began to half-heartedly explain why he was cheating, before what must have been a dozen cards fell out of each of his sleeves. While the ladies yelled at him some more, he picked up an ace of hearts, displaying it to the girls and Angel.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but that game was aces to me!”

Angel couldn’t help it - he burst out laughing, using the now unconscious body of the Kitty Cat to make sure he didn’t fall out of his chair. If this is what staying here was going to be like from now on, maybe he had a reason to stay. 

\---

Thank Lucifer Smiles was a good liar. And super strong.

Angel was supposed to be out for a walk, or a “quick romp round the block,” as the Pimp put it, but he was blissfully drinking the night away at some rando’s bar. Smiles had claimed that he would watch Angel, making sure “he doesn't get his nose in his namesake,” while watching the very man drink and stir his favorite drug into the glass, all the while propositioning under the table sex with some smokin’ hot demons. And because no one in the hotel wanted to say no to Smiles, he would likely get away with it semi-scott free! 

His savior was sitting at the bar, nearly ten feet away, appearing to make pleasantries with the bartender while nursing a glass of red wine. At least, that’s what it would look like if the turtle man was seemingly scared right out of his shell. It was almost hilarious how scared everyone was of him. It seemed so simple - just never get on the demon’s bad side, and you’re good, right? That was how things worked, so why worry? Maybe people were too worried about messing up somehow, then getting eaten alive or dragged into wherever that snake’s machine went. 

Even having seen it for himself, however, Angel really didn’t care. Sure, the dude was a little weird and could occasionally be scary, but he seemed harmless enough most of the time. Not to mention he was great at cheating in games and lending a hand in any bar or street fights. 

Angel rose from his seat, sauntering over to Strawberry. He mostly wanted to make them desperate - that always resulted in more money and more fun. But he also felt as though he should at least thank the deer for helping him get back into his element and away from Charlie and her Watchdog Lesbian. Heh. There was an improvement.

Upon noticing his approach, Smiles grin grew even wider, nearly stretching off his face. He spoke with the bartender, a little too quietly to hear over the loud music and the occasional demons fighting. The bartender nodded, before rushing to grab some of the tier 3 drink, pouring a glass. 

“Ah, well if it isn’t my least favorite little spider! Are we having fun this fine evening?” Smiles swirled his glass with the arm settled on the bar, switching it between hands effortlessly. 

Angel scoffed. “Least favorite? Aww. I thought I climbed the ranks a little since last time.” Angel looked at his nails, before focusing his now lidded eyes back to Strawberry. “‘Sides, I could climb those ranks if you ever change your mind about the whole not fucking thing.” The bartender set down the quality whiskey in a fancy shot glass in front of Smiles, who laughed before passing the bartender a twenty. 

“I highly doubt I will, Angel. Besides, the spider who murdered Little Miss Muffet is a very good friend of mine.” A canned, garbled laugh track played after his little joke along with his own muted snickers. Smiles cleared his throat, before sliding the shot glass to Angel.

Angel grabbed the shot glass, sniffing the alcohol. It was so strong, it nearly made him recoil from the stench. That was the good shit. A small smile spread across the spider’s face, a well of gratitude bubbling in the pit of his gut. For once he didn’t want to squash it yet. It felt good. 

“Hey, uh. Thanks for, uh… This whole. Thing.” Angel gestured using his arms to the bar around them. A quick thought ran through his head - he didn’t know this fucker’s name. And he’d been hanging around him for around two weeks. Shit. “Uh - erm…”   
  


“Alastor. And anytime.” Smil- err, Alastor said, bowing a little with a small flair and flicker of his wrist. Angel almost snorted. Alastor. Why did that fit so well? Oh well. His ears perked up before he used his mic stand to forcibly make Angel bow as well. What the hell was this prude doing - 

**_BANG-BANG!_ **

A gunshot - no, two - whizzed right over Angel’s head, nearly grazing the tip of his hair. The glasses of both cheap and expensive alcohol were shattered, glass tinkling onto the ground in a cascade of sadness from both patrons and workers. Angels’ head snapped up, mismatched eyes honing in on his target. There was a large, lion-like demon who he faintly recalled. He was a frequent customer for a while. He had pistols in his hands, holding them in that super weird gangster style after mafias fell out of fashion, both guns pointed at him at an inefficient angle.

“Aww, sweetheart, did no one teach you how to properly shoot a gun? That’s just pathetic,” Angel dusted off his suit, fluffing up his hair again as it had gotten out of place from the sudden movement. He put his lower pair of arms on his hips, while his top pair crossed themselves.

The lion stomped over to Angel, pointing a gun at his chin while holding himself up on the bar with his other paw. His teeth were twisted into a snarl, breath smelling of rotten fish burning flesh. “You whore! You told my fuckin’ wife! You ruined me!”

Angel nearly burst out laughing. He always told “say hi to the misses” as a joke. He never actually told anyone about his customers except for Valentino and occasionally Cherri. And they never blabbed, either. Either this was his fault, or he was just being an idiot prick. “You seriously think I told anyone about  _ you? _ Hah! Wishful thinking, ya big pussy cat. You weren’t nearly good enough at dickin’ me down for me to blab about ya. Maybe that’s why your wife lef- _ mmph! _ ”

The gun under his jaw shoved hard, “Shut it, slut!”

Angel was ready to sprout his extra arms and take the gun from him when the pressure under his jaw was relieved. He cracked it a bit, looking to his side to see Str- Alastor using his mic to move the gun down. 

“My, my. Did your mother raise you with that mouth? That must have been quite disappointing for her,” Alastor tsked, standing in front of Angel, grin wide and full of sharp teeth. The demon recoiled for a brief moment, before laughing loudly.

“So,  _ you’re _ the big bad Radio Demon? Hah. Gotta admit, I’m not impressed. I thought you’d be taller.” A smug grin returned to the lion demon’s face before he pointed both of his pistols at Alastor’s face. “Or bigger. You just look like a b-list twink from one of the whore’s skin flicks.”

Patrons of the bar began to back up towards the wall. Angel wished he could have too. But standing right behind the Radio Demon was likely the best option right now. He had some trust from Alastor and for once, he wasn’t going to squander it. Instead of appropriately backstabbing Alastor, he just popped his head over the deer’s shoulder, smile resound in his voice -

“Oh ho, you’re so fucked.”

The deer demon laughed heartily, even doubling over. The audience in his voice laughed along uproariously, before he stood straight again and wiped a tear. He let out a little sigh, before the air went dead, the very air feeling charged with static and weight. The lion demon suddenly looked scared out of his mind. A red glow emanated from Alastor’s eyes as the world around him shifted into what seemed like its own layer of hell. He raised one hand, and the lion demon began to be wrapped up in black tentacles, thick and dripping with inky void, squeezing the lion’s middle so hard Angel could swear that his eyes were popping out of his skull.

Alastor looked back at Angel for a second, and Angel almost wished he could paint just so he could have that expression on his wall. The Radio Demon’s eyes had turned into radio dials, spinning wildly as his grin curved inwards on itself, his small horns suddenly three times larger and more complicated than before. Angel likely would have gotten a hard on if not for the dead weight in the air and sounds of choking.

“You were fun. Now, dear listeners, say goodbye-”

Some more void tentacles were wrapping around the demons neck. “No! No, please! I have a wife down here! I-I have money! Drugs! Any-anything-  _ heurgh-” _

“- to our special guest, one Mister Tomathy!”

The tentacles increased their grip, breaking the demon’s spine with a harsh  _ snap _ , the very bone breaking right in half as well as shattering his neck with a sickeningly satisfying crunch. Fake applause rang out from Alastor, who simply put his hand down, grin shifting back to a smile, before turning around. Angel had no idea what he looked like right now. Probably ridiculous. His eyes felt like they were popping out of his head. And when did his jaw drop to the floor?

Alastor’s face was damn creepy. His smile was still too big for his face, but it barely fit enough. A small amount of blood that the demon had choked up splattered across his face, running down his face in odd shapes, almost like red lakes. His eyes were glowing with glee. Not metaphorically, Angel didn’t do metaphors. It was so very,  _ very _ hot. He looked positively delighted. Damn. Angel’s amazed he didn’t tear the man’s coat off that very moment and start kissing him, he was so sexy. 

“Well, I think we’ve had our fun. Let’s return to the ladies back at the Hotel, yes, Angel?”

Yeah, Angel was staying at the Hotel. If just for Alastor. 

\---

Fat Nuggets truly didn’t belong down here. He was such a good little pig, shuffling around Angel’s room, using his own special piggy box, snuggling into Angel’s lap whenever he wanted a quick cuddle - it was all too good for a place like this. He had to thank all the religions that thought pork was the devil or whatever - otherwise, he’s pretty sure this little piggy wouldn’t be here in hell. 

Angel stroked Nug Nug’s head to the slow beat of the song playing on the radio next to him, the thin layer of fur soft on his fingertips giving him a fleeting sense of joy. He was such a good pig. One of Angel’s arms wrapped around the pig’s middle, while another poked him in the snout. The little pig wrinkled his snout, snorting adorably, before snuggling closer to Angel’s chest. Angel in turn, snuggled his face closer to the pig. 

“I have no idea how in the hell you got down here. You deserve heaven and more, my widdle Fat Nug Nugs.” 

“Why, I can inform you, dear listener!”

“GAH!” Angel fell out of his chair, Fat Nuggets squealing as he ran out of his owner’s grasp. His face planted firmly into the floor of his room, a painful crunch going through his nose. The spider used his second pair of arms to get up, while his first pair was busy nursing his now bleeding nose. His attention snapped toward the radio, already tired of whatever Alastor was going to do. “What’s the big idea, Smiley?! Who gave you permission to enter my fuckin’ room?!”

Alastor appeared to manifest from the small radio’s speakers, his form expanding before he fully appeared in a flare of voodoo-like symbols. He put a hand under his chin, scratching lightly. Angel began tapping his foot as he stood, annoyed with this stupid all powerful demon. Fat Nuggets ran around Alastor’s legs, sniffing at his shoes.

“Hmm. No one! But, that doesn’t mean that I won’t welcome myself!”

The deer-like demon hummed a small tune, opening the door to his room, manifesting what seemed to be a clone on the other side. The real Alastor perked up, pretending to let his clone into ANGEL’S room. 

“Why, Hello you strapping young lad! I’ve been waiting to see you!” Alastor made room for his clone to walk in, grin playful. 

The other Alastor’s voice matched the voice of his microphone as he walked into Alastor’s body, phasing back into the Radio Demon as he closed the door. “What a coincidence! So was I!” The fake audience laughed as Alastor chortled. 

Alastor laughed at his own shitty joke as Angel rolled his eyes. He felt a smile threaten to curve his lips, before quashing it with more well deserved irritation. “What the hell do you want, Al,” Angel huffed as he reached down to pick up Nuggets. 

“Well, I heard you talking to me-” 

“Talking to  _ myself _ -”

“-wondering how your little uneaten dinner got down here!” Alastor made a motion to grab Fat Nuggets, but Angel slapped him away. 

“He ain’t dinner, nor will he ever be,” Angel sniffed in his clean little piggy’s sweet smell, going back to stroking him slowly on the head with one hand. “And I wasn’t askin’ you in the first place. I was just thinking aloud, ya dolt.”

“ _ You’re _ the dolt here! Who talks to themselves?” Alastor laughed, slapping Angel on the back, wrapping one arm around Angel’s middle. Angel really was only used to ass slaps, that felt so weird. “Especially when they’ve got company?”

“I didn’t - eh, whatever,” Angel gave in. He learned after a few weeks with Alastor that the Radio Demon loved to stick his handsome face into everything. And even if he wasn’t there, he was always listening. “So, what’s with Fat Nuggets? Why’s he down here?”

“Well, that’s a funny story, really. I almost feel a little bad for - what was his name again? Nugat?” Alastor reached out a hesitant hand toward the pig, the other scratching at his chin.

“No no no, Fat Nuggets.”

“Odd name.”

“He’s fat, cute, and would probably make delicious nuggets.” Angel shrugged, letting Alastor lay a hand on his beloved pig. Alastor opened his mouth. “No, that’s not an offer, and if you ever kill him I  _ will _ kill you.”

“You’d have better luck trying to get me to haul someone’s ashes.”

“Alright, you made that one up - “

“I assure you, I did not. And no, I’m still not interested.” Alastor pet the pig lightly, most of his attention directed at the small fuzzy creature. 

Angel groaned dramatically, draping himself over a nearby chair. He’d known Alastor for a little while, and he was the single biggest pain in the ass to try to sleep with. He heard from Charlie that he was what people called “Asexual” - but that was just impossible, right? Who the hell doesn’t like sex? It seemed like some kind of superpower almost. Not want to have your life dictated by libido sounded fantastic.

Angel shook his head. “Anyways. About Fat Nug Nugs. Where did he come from?”

The Deer demon took his hand away from the pig, scanned for a decent place to sit, landing on Angel’s lush, pink cushioned couch. Angel took a seat of his own back on an expensive gold and pink “bean-bag” as the younger demons called it, Letting Fat Nuggets roam around the room. “Well, you see, humans are dumb, and this poor little piggy got sent to hell because of it. A bunch of folks on a bender let two pigs lose in a school, numbered one and three. And the authorities couldn’t find two. So, they cursed Pigs one and two to go to hell. Because someone took their words lightly, two little piggies went to the bar six feet under.” 

Huh. That made a lot of sense. It was less of a religious deal and more of just “people got fed up with these animals and sentenced them to hell”. Still, one thing didn’t make sense.

“Alright, well.” Angel put two of his arms behind his head, resting further into the chair. “Why did that work? Wouldn’t they have to do something terrible to end up here? Like, somethin’ that can’t be redeemed?”

“In the eyes of a christian man, the “three” pigs who couldn’t be found all could never be redeemed for their crimes.” A small huff of laughter escaped the Radio Demon, seemingly on accident. Fat Nuggets scrambled up Angel’s couch, tearing the fabric with his little hooves. It settled itself between Alastor’s legs, letting out a puff of air before going into nap mode. “It’s rather funny. So many sinners, and yet this pig made it here all because one man couldn’t keep his trap shut. So unfair, and so… hilarious.”

Yeah, Angel and Al definitely belonged down here in hell. Despite how awful it was, it was also pretty damn hilarious. He’s pretty sure both God and Lucifer had a good laugh when the pigs arrived in hell. Angel briefly wondered what happened to the other pig. It probably got eaten, didn’t stand a chance without someone like Angel to pick it up. 

Well, if both Angel and Al were fucked, at least they were fucked together, right? Angel rose from his beanbag chair, opening his mouth to say some snarky remark back, before really looking at the Radio Demon draped across his couch like the hottest damn thing he’d ever seen. 

Alastor was nose to nose with the pet pig, glaring deep into Fat Nugget’s black little pits of darkness. The pig looked dissatisfied from being picked up, but put up with the demon’s antics. Alastor was probably very warm. Instead of a huge grin stretching across his face, the realest, smallest of smiles graced his mouth. Deadass, the terrifying Radio Demon himself, who overthrew countless overlords, just… holding a pig. He looked like an idiot. A hot, sexy idiot.

That was the first time Angel realized that Alastor  _ was _ , in a way, fucking him over. He could hardly keep himself from voicing his concern, and instead chose to mumble a soft, nearly imperceptible -

"Aw,  _ fuck _ ."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the first part of this garbage. :D
> 
> btw "Hauling Someone's Ashes" is a euphemism for sex. Yeah I dunno why either. It sounded so morbid and so... Alastor, so I had to add it.


End file.
